


I found his heart

by mvernet



Series: Blair's Poetry Journal [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Tag, Gabe the Angel, M/M, Miracles, Night shift - Freeform, Original Poetry - Freeform, part one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: Blair keeps a journal of poems he never meant anyone to read. He accidentally gives it to Jim while sharing the copious amount of strictly scientific field notes he’s written on his favorite  subject his Sentinel. Takes place after “Night Shift.”Five poems written by Blair Sandburg.Sentinel Bingo 2018Slash CardFive Prompts, Five Poems, Five PartsTrapped in a dream, Warriors, Slavery, The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, SecretSeries: Blair’s Poetry JournalPart One Prompt: Trapped In A Dream





	I found his heart

Part One

Blair had been unusually quiet in the truck, but didn’t seem angry. Even though Jim knew he had hurt him with his “fear of courtesy” after reading the first chapter of his dissertation without permission. On top of that, Gabe the angel had disappeared from the emergency room. Blair insisted they stop at the hospital on the way home so that Jim could search the hospital area for the poor lost soul. At Simon’s request, an APB had been issued. All that seemed to left of Gabe was his threadbare scarf, which Blair had wrapped around his neck like a prayer shawl. The glances Jim stole as he drove Blair home concerned him. Blair’s forced lightness was betrayed by folded hands and dark stormy eyes that kept seeking out the constellations in the sky as if searching for answers to eternal questions. 

When they finally arrived home on this seemingly never ending day, Jim slumped on the couch, flaunting his own rules as he placed his worn out, white socked feet on the coffee table. After the night shift from hell he was too tired to grab a beer, and another cup of coffee held no appeal. Instead he listened to his partner rummaging in his room.

Blair emerged from his room with a pile of composition notebooks tucked under his arm, still wearing Gabe’s scarf as a memorial to his lost angel. “Jim. I want you to read these. They are my field notes about our work together. I don’t expect you to read them word for word, but many of the cases that involved you using your senses are labeled clearly by date.”

“Sandburg you don’t have to do this. I was way out of line reading your first chapter. I deserve getting my feelings hurt. I acted like a child. It’s just hard hearing people you… care for giving their real opinions of you. I kinda liked thinking I was your hero. What a joke.”

“Hey, man. Don’t say that. You are my hero and I’m the wind beneath your wings.”

Jim chuckled. “Well, you are full of hot air.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hahaha. But really, Jim you have to understand the pressure I’m under. I’m sure I’ll rewrite that first chapter at least twenty times before I’m satisfied. I just had to have something to turn in.”

Jim looked puzzled, he picked up and waved the top notebook from the pile next to his feet. “What do you mean? You have all these notes. Don’t you have more than one chapter finished?”

“Sure I do. Technically the whole diss is finished on my computer. But I’m not happy with it. You see, I’ve lost my objectivity. I realize I should give up on the entire project, but I don’t want to… give up on you. Riding with you, Living here. My friends, my life at the station. I’m too involved with my subject. The chapter you read was me struggling to write something that would convince the board that I haven’t ‘gone native’. As you pointed out, I did a piss poor job of it.”

“Gone native, Chief?”

“That’s when an anthropologist becomes too involved with their subject.”

“Not good?”

Blair shook his head. “Not good at all. That’s why I want your opinion, on how to present my findings on Sentinels without making it so personal. Jim. I’m in big acedemic trouble here. And even more important to me, I realize I need to do a better job hiding your identity. Shit. I should just delete the whole thing and start over.”

Blair stood before Jim nervously fingering the holes in Gabe’s scarf. Jim hated the sadness he saw in his eyes. Jim put down the notebook, pulled his feet off the table. He leaned forward, absently neatened the pile.

“Take it easy, Chief. I’ll try to help you. When do you think you lost your objectivity?”

Blair raised his head and swallowed hard. “The day I met you, man.”

Jim tried to hide his shock. He focused on Blair’s fingers worrying the weave of the scarf. He suddenly remembered Gabe’s words. "What good does it do for a man to have ears that will hear a thousand miles if he cannot listen to the whispers of his own heart? You should begin by listening to the hearts of others.”

“Listen, Sandburg. I’m sorry about overreacting earlier. I’ll look through your notes, but I trust your judgement. You always find a solution. You can’t be thinking clearly after the night we had. Maybe you should try to get some sleep. Do you need a couple of tylenol or some hot herbal crap?”

Blair rubbed his the back of his neck and tried to work the tired muscles.

“No, my neck is a little sore from the bad guy getting me in a headlock, but I’m okay. You’re right. I’ll sleep on it. Goodnight, Jim.”

“Goodnight, Chief. Oh, Chief?”

“Yeah, Jim?”

“I’m sorry about Gabe. I’m sure we could have been a help to him if we had more time.”

“Yeah. At least I got to meet him. I’ll never forget him. Do you… nevermind. Goodnight.”

He headed to his bedroom and Jim listened to the comforting sounds of a weary hearted Blair crawling into bed.

“Yeah, Chief. I believe in miracles. I live with one, “ he whispered Sentinel soft.

Jim tuned into Blair’s heartbeat and started to look through the books on the table. Blair’s room might have been messy with his half empty tea cups, dirty socks and papers on every surface, but his research was highly organized. Jim couldn’t help but notice one notebook that was labelled differently. Bold black lettering spelled out, “Blair’s Poetry Journal.”

He opened to a random page and began to read.

Trapped In A Dream  


I was the grey wolf again tonight.  
We melded in blue mystical light.  
I awoke in the forests of Cascade  
Swiftly ran through blue tinted shade.

I ran until I could run no more.  
Panting, I stood by the river’s shore  
Baring my teeth, voicing a growl  
Lifting my head I began to howl.

The tall human fell in by my side  
Fearless, he soothed my woeful cries.  
Without bow or arrow he brought me down  
I bonelessly lay upon the ground.

My wolfish heart reached out for his  
It was still trapped like it always is  
Inside a man too scared to feel  
My wolf heart beating strong and real.

I woke to rain, the sky grey with gloom  
Safe within my cloistered room.  
I wish the wolf could show me how  
To wake from the dream I was trapped in now.

Jim stared at the page, then wiped at his blurry eyes. “Gabe,” he whispered looking up to heaven, “I found his heart, and I’m listening.”

 

Continued in Part Two


End file.
